


Always

by Hexcraft



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Excessive Drinking, M/M, Multi, Party, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1413322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexcraft/pseuds/Hexcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time to party! Lithuania and Poland are invited to a party hosted by America, and naturally they're excited. It's a chance for Poland to be extra fabulous and talk Liet into a little after-party fun. But as the party rages and Poland's sobriety diminishes, the blond gets himself into more trouble than he ever imagined. Luckily, Lithuania is always there for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Fidgeting, Lithuania checked his watch again. Shit! They were going to be late! “Poland, aren’t you ready yet?” he called up the stairs in an anxious tone. He was standing in the small entryway of Poland’s house, waiting for the blond nation to finish getting dressed. Lithuania himself was dressed in a dark green button down dress shirt and black dress pants and had been waiting for his boyfriend for nearly fifteen minutes.  
“Perfection, like, can’t be rushed, Liet~” Poland’s voice responded from the second floor; he was using a sing-song tone. Before Lithuania could say anything more, the nation of Poland appeared at the top of the stairs; Lithuania’s jaw dropped.  
Giggling at the expression on the brunet nation’s face, Poland gracefully descended the stairs and stopped once he had reached the bottom.  
“Do you like it?” he asked innocently, twirling and revealing the slit that went all the way up to his hip—it showed a tantalizing stripe of soft, smooth skin. The dress itself was exactly the same shade of green as Poland’s eyes, with only one strap and a swooping neckline that showed just the right amount of his shoulders and back. Gold glittered at his wrists, ears and throat.  
Helpless to form words with his slack jaw, Lithuania simply nodded, openly admiring his boyfriend’s slender figure. Another giggle burst from the blond and he stepped up to the other man.  
“Liet,” he cooed seductively, wrapping his arms around the slightly taller nation’s neck and pressing against him; his tongue darted out and he ever so lightly licked Lithuania’s bottom lip.  
A dark blush covered the brunet’s cheeks. “Y-yes?”  
Poland placed a soft kiss on Lithuania’s jaw. “You’re staring…it’s, like, making me blush…”  
 _I’m making_ you _blush?_ Lithuania thought incredulously, electrically away of just how close his boyfriend was. He wanted to kiss the shorter man until the blond’s knees gave out, but there were more urgent matters to attend to at the moment. Taking a step back, he took Poland’s hands in his own and smiled a bit nervously. “Ready to go?”  
“Totally!” Poland chirped, excitement shining in his eyes. He leaned forward and placed a light kiss on Lithuania’s lips, causing an even darker blush to layer over the one the brunet already had.  
“Come on,” he muttered, embarrassed, and led the shorter nation out the front door.

Poland chattered happily in the front seat of Lithuania’s car, one leg gracefully crossed over the other as his hands illustrated what he was saying. Gold polish shone on his carefully manicured nails.  
“And you can, like, spend time with your brothers!”  
Surprised, Lithuania glanced over at his boyfriend. “Pol, you know I’m not actually related to them, right?”  
“Well, duh,” the blond replied impatiently, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t, like, be close to them. You spent, like, how many years living at Russia’s house as the Baltic States?”  
Lithuania winced as unwanted memories invaded his mind. “Too many.”  
His tone made Poland look at him in concern, and he reached across the center console to slip his hand into Lithuania’s slightly larger one.  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, squeezing gently. After a moment of silence, the brunet squeezed back.  
“It’s okay.” He lifted the jeweled hand and kissed Poland’s knuckles. A small smile curved the blond’s glossed lips as he blushed prettily.  
“Liet?” He sounded unusually timid.  
“Hm?”  
Poland leaned across the small space between the two nations and put his lips by his boyfriend’s ear. “After the party, can we…?” His hand rested suggestively on the brunet’s thigh.  
Warm breath tickled Lithuania’s ear, sending goosebumps over his body. He didn’t have to ask what the Polish man was talking about—his body had already agreed to the request and was growing warmer with every passing moment.  
Mutely, the brunet nodded.  
With an adorable smile, Poland returned to his side of the car and gazed out the window. The passing scenery went by without him noticing it; his thoughts were in another place entirely. He couldn’t decide which was going to be more fun: the party, or what would come after.  
On his own side of the car, Lithuania was suddenly feeling much more nervous about the evening than he had been, which was really saying something. The quiet nation was always nervous.  
Poland, already bored with the quiet and feeling playful, clicked on the radio and flipped through the channels until he found a song that would work. Lithuania blushed darkly when he recognized the music and did his best to focus on the road and not on what his boyfriend was doing.  
“I'm bringin' sexy back,” the blond sang, running a hand up his revealed leg as he grinned at the other man. “Them other boys don't know how to act. I think it's special what's behind your back, so turn around and I'll pick up the slack…” Playfully, he braced his hands on his seat and bucked his hips up into the air; Lithuania felt his pants becoming uncomfortable and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.  
 _Must not lose control. Keep driving. Must not pull over and fuck boyfriend in the back seat._  
 _“Take ‘em to the bridge!”_  
“Dirty babe…you see these shackles? Baby, I'm your slave…I'll let you whip me if I misbehave…It's just that no one makes me feel this way…”  
Oh, God…Poland was holding his wrists out as if handcuffed and making one of the sexiest faces the brunet had ever seen. Lithuania quickly switched off the radio as the blond began dancing in his seat.  
“Liet!” Poland whined, pouting. “I was singing that!” Then he noticed how red the other’s face was and how he kept shifting around. The blond eyed the bulge in his boyfriend’s pants and giggled. “Need some help?”  
“N-no! Just keep your hands to yourself. I’ll be fine. And no more radio!”  
“If you, like, say so.” There was that sing-song tone again.  
 _He’s going to pay for that when we get home._

“Hey, you made it!” a loud, familiar voice shouted. Poland and Lithuania looked to see America coming towards them. The bespectacled blond whistled teasingly when he caught sight of Poland.  
“Lookin’ good, Pol,” he complimented, winking. Poland blushed and giggled, his arm linked through Lithuania’s.  
“Like, thanks, Al. Totally great of you to invite us.”  
The American blinked then grinned widely, surprised but pleased to have been addressed by his human name. “Well, you two enjoy yourselves! This hero’s got guests to greet!” The tall nation bounded away, heading towards the buffet table and the people gathered there.  
“Bye, Al!” Poland called, then began dragging his boyfriend towards the punch bowl. “Let’s, like, grab a drink before this thing starts.”  
Lithuania mumbled something similar to an agreement. Thankfully, he’d managed to calm down during the remainder of the drive.  
When they reached the punch bowl, Poland released the other nation’s arm just long enough to pour two cups, then handed one to Lithuania before latching onto his arm again. Sipping his punch, his glittering green eyes surveyed the party.  
“Oh, hey, Feliciano!”  
Poland had spotted one of his favorite nations and waved excitedly to catch the short Italian’s attention.  
“Heeeey~Germany, look! Poland is here!” Before the muscular blond could reply, North Italy was somehow managing to steer him towards Poland and Lithuania.  
Once again, Poland released his date and hugged Italy, both nations giggling and chatting in a friendly way.  
“Ve~Poland is so pretty!”  
“Like, thanks! Totally love your bowtie! Very spiffy.”  
Italy beamed and attempted to puff out his narrow chest. “I picked it out myself!” Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Germany sighed. It was Italy’s only bowtie, so his claim wasn’t all that impressive. However, Germany wasn’t about to be the one to ruin Italy’s happiness, so he kept the knowledge to himself.  
Poland was in the middle of showing Italy the bejeweled clip he had in his hair when Lithuania noticed who else was at the party.  
“I’ll be right back,” he muttered, and walked away without waiting for a response. His two “brothers” were standing near the buffet table, and he noticed they seemed to be using it as a barrier. Their foe, unsurprisingly, was Russia.  
“Latvia,” he said softly once he was within earshot. The shorter of the two boys squeaked in frightened surprise and spun around. Relief washed over his boyish features.  
“Toris!” he squealed, practically tackling the brunet nation in a hug. Lithuania smiled.  
“Hello, Raivis. How are you?”  
The short blond nuzzled his face into Toris’ chest. “I’m okay. Eduard and I are happy to see you!” His words drew Liet’s attention to the other nation, who was watching him closely through thick glasses.  
“Estonia.”  
“Lithuania.”  
Raivis’ grip on his “older brother” tightened. He didn’t like the coldness between them, and wished they could be friends like before. Toris petted the blond’s hair comfortingly.  
“How have you been?” he asked, trying to be friendly to his former housemate.  
“Better.”  
“I’m glad to hear that.” Suddenly, Lithuania felt tiny cold spots on his chest and realized that the youngest Baltic was trembling more than normal.  
Concern for his “little brother” over-powered the awkward tension he felt towards Estonia.  
“Raivis, are you all right?” He attempted to take a step back in order to see Latvia’s face but found himself locked in the boy’s tight embrace. A quiet sniffle reached his ears and confirmed his suspicions; Raivis was crying.  
 _Oh, Raivis._ Gently but firmly, Lithuania pried the boy’s arms off himself.  
“No—!” the blond protested, tears running down his soft cheeks. “Toris—!”  
Before he could say anything more, Lithuania knelt and hugged him tightly. Raivis immediately nuzzled into his brother’s neck and grabbed onto his shirt to prevent being pulled away again.  
“It’s okay, Raivis,” Lithuania soothed, rubbing the smaller nation’s back. “You don’t have to cry.”  
The sight of Lithuania embracing Latvia the way he was melted a bit of the ice around Estonia’s heart. He might resent Toris for all but abandoning them after they left Russia, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t grateful for the comfort he gave Latvia. Also kneeling, the bespectacled Baltic wrapped his arms around both his brothers, resting his cheek on Latvia’s shoulder.  
“Oh, they’re, like, totally adorable,” Poland commented to Italy. The two of them had observed the interactions of the three Baltics from their spot from the punch bowl.  
“Si,” Italy agreed, smiling cutely. “Ve…it is good that they get along.”  
Nodding in agreement, Poland let his gaze wander and found himself watching Russia. This made Poland uncomfortable, as he got the feeling that, one, Russia knew Poland was watching him and that two, Russia was also watching the Baltics. He wore an eerie sort of smile.  
“Italy, your brother is trying to say hello,” Germany stated quietly, nodding in the direction of South Italy.  
“Lovino!” Italy rushed to embrace his brother, who then forcefully removed the excitable Italian from his bubble of personal space.  
“Feliciano, what are you still hanging around with that potato-sucker for?” the less-friendly Italian demanded, glaring at Germany, who ignored him.  
“Ve~Germany is my best friend! He takes good care of me!”  
Not wanting to witness yet another rant over the blond by Lovino, Poland slipped away and fearlessly approached the tallest nation, his cup of punch held gracefully in one hand.  
“What’s up, vodka-boy?”  
Violet eyes and a naïve smile were turned on him, though a sinister mind lurked behind the innocent face.  
“Ah, _Здраствуйста,_ Poland. _Как дела?_ ”  
Rolling his eyes, Poland cocked a hip and placed his free hand on it; the movement caused the slit in his dress to reveal a good portion of his leg. “Like, talk in a language we can all understand, Ivan.” The look on the Russian’s face made it obvious he wasn’t used to being addressed by his former underling so informally. It made Poland smile. Even though he understood the Russian perfectly, he enjoyed being able to request that he speak a more global language.  
“Lithuania is enjoying himself, да? It makes me happy to see my Baltics together.”  
“Toris isn’t yours,” Poland snapped, instantly defending his lover, “and neither are Raivis and Eduard.”  
Russia laughed, his infamous, “Kolkolkolkolkol,” sending a shiver down Poland’s spine. “For now.”  
The words made Poland’s blood run cold. _What the hell does he mean by that? He can’t possibly intend to invade them, can he?_  
“You, like, better leave Toris alone,” the blond growled threateningly. “No one here will let you get away with shit.”  
Ivan’s smile grew as if the challenge to cause trouble excited him. “We will see, _да?_ ”  
Poland hated the implications behind those simple words.  
“Excuse me, little brother,” a quiet voice interrupted.  
“Katyusha! _Привет,_ ” Russia greeted his older sister, smiling.  
“I am very sorry to interrupt,” she told him, a guilty look on her face, “but Belarus is looking for you.”  
A panicked light came into the Russian’s violet eyes; Poland resisted the urge to giggle.  
“Ah, well, _спасибо,_ Ukraine. _До свидания._ ” He turned and walked away abruptly, disappearing through a doorway with a furtive glance over his shoulder.  
“I, like, didn’t know Belarus was here,” Poland commented to Ukraine, amused by Russia’s sudden departure.  
The large-breasted woman smiled. “She isn’t. My sister has a terrible cold and stayed home, but little brother doesn’t know that.”  
“You lied?”  
“Well, little sister is always looking for Russia, so not really.”  
A giggle burst from Feliks and he took another drink of his punch. “You have great timing. I was, like, totally starting to lose my cool.”  
“Don’t worry about it. There’ll be plenty of other nations to make big fools of themselves.”  
“And we’ll totally laugh at every one of them, right?”  
Ukraine smiled and led the blond man towards the buffet table, her large breasts bouncing slightly with the movement. “Definitely.”


	2. Chapter 2

Music blared from the speakers at the front of the room as nations mingled on the dance floor. Normally, Poland was right in the middle of it all, dancing like a dirty slut just for the hell of it. And he had been, until he’d wanted to dance with Lithuania only to discover that his boyfriend was still with his brothers. The former Baltic States were gathered at a small table, laughing and talking with their arms around each other; Latvia looked like he’d found heaven.  
Selfishly, Poland wanted to steal Liet away for himself, but he resisted. Not only would it be rude, but it would upset Toris, and an upset Toris definitely wasn’t a Toris that would be interested in having sex when they got home. So Poland settled for sitting off by himself as he drank glass after glass of whatever alcohol was being served. This meant he’d already ingested beer, vodka, rum and wine.  
The blond’s filters were quickly drowning in the dangerous concoction. This was a rather impressive feat, considering how much alcohol a nation had to consume in order to become intoxicated. Even though Poland was considered a lightweight by some of the others, it was still a huge amount of alcohol.  
It was mostly dark in the party room, the lights having been turned off a while ago, but the flashing colored party lights made it relatively easy for Poland to watch what was happening around him. His gaze was locked on the Baltics as he sipped a glass of wine. Fuzzy thoughts about his lover passed in and out of his head until one—likely bad—idea managed to stick.  
 _I’ll make him jealous. Then he won’t ignore me. He won’t even be able to keep his hands off me._  
This particular idea sounded deliciously clever to the tipsy nation. He quickly drained the rest of his wine then made his way onto the dance floor, his coordination somewhat deteriorated by the amount of alcohol he had consumed. As he danced, bumping and grinding playfully against other nations, he maneuvered himself into a position where he knew Lithuania could see him. Once set, he began dancing with abandon. His hips swayed and dipped to the bass of the song and he sent long, smoldering looks towards his distracted brunet boyfriend, though they appeared to go unnoticed.  
Not long after he’d begun dancing, the blond felt hands on his hips and someone behind him. It wasn’t Toris—the shy nation hadn’t left his table—and the mystery nation was significantly taller than Feliks. It was definitely a male nation, and Poland felt a thrill of excitement when he noticed the other nation was aroused.  
This knowledge only fed the blond’s fearlessness. He put his hands over those on his hips and danced against his partner, grinding and rubbing. If that didn’t make Lithuania jealous, then nothing would. After a few minutes, the song ended, and Poland turned as the next song began.  
“R-Russia?!” he gasped, eyes widening. The large nation’s hands were still on Poland’s hips, preventing him from stepping back, and he was smiling innocently.  
“Poland is a very good dancer.” He used his grip on the shorter man to pull him closer—Poland squeaked as their hips pressed together—and whispered in his ear. “And his body is very desirable.”  
 _Jesus Christ, he has a boner! Like, ew!_  
Around them, the music continued and the other guests danced while the two nations stared at each other. Russia was still smiling, though Poland looked completely shocked and a little afraid. Now what was he going to do? If he wanted to escape the Russian, he’d have to stop dancing, but if he wanted to make Lithuania jealous, he needed to keep dancing. It wasn’t the sort of situation the blond had ever wanted to find himself in.  
Leaning closer, Ivan put his mouth by Poland’s ear. “Keep dancing, little Poland.” His hands began to force the blond’s hips to move to the music, and he purred in the shorter nation’s ear; he thought the friction between them was lovely.  
“Nng…” Poland did his best to resist the soft moan as, despite his best efforts, his body reacted to the contact.   
_No! Body, knock it off! You totally don’t like him!_  
Unfortunately, his body ignored his mental commands and continued to respond to the Russian’s movements exactly the opposite way Poland wanted it to. It wasn’t long before he himself was hard, and Ivan obviously knew it. The innocent smile on that child-like face turned into a smirk and he ground their hips together, eliciting another moan from the blond. Without meaning to, Poland wrapped his fingers around the fabric of the Russian’s shirt, his hips moving of their own accord, and felt the grip on his waist tighten. It seemed Ivan was much easier to arouse than Poland was, which gave the blond an idea that was almost as clever as his plan to make Lithuania jealous.  
With a smirk, he bucked his hips forward and earned a groan from the taller nation, whose violet eyes widened in surprise. Then he pulled as far away as Ivan would allow, still gripping his shirt, and began to dance. His movements were slow and sensual and the Russian’s eyes followed every one of them, adding to Poland’s glee.  
The party continued and so did the blond nation—he knew some of the others were giving him strange looks, but he didn’t care. Toying with Russia was more fun than he’d expected and Poland wasn’t about to stop. He was finally starting to really enjoy the party and too bad for Lithuania that he wasn’t the reason.  
Suddenly, Ivan’s large hands moved around the blond and grabbed his ass, squeezing as he was roughly pulled against the taller nation’s body. Poland yelped in surprise, barely managing to turn his head to the side to avoid the rough kiss Ivan had been about to force on him. The Russian growled and bit the blond’s ear instead.  
“Poland should not tease so much. He will get himself into trouble.”  
“Nn…” Pushing against his chest, Poland put a small amount of distance between himself and the larger man then moved the other’s hands away from his ass. “Like, get over it, Ivan. You can’t have me.”  
Ivan grinned. “Your body says otherwise, _да?_ ” Without any warning, he placed his hand on Poland’s vital regions and rubbed, easily feeling that the blond was hard.  
“H-hey!” His face turning a dark shade of red, Poland smacked the larger nation’s hand away. “You can’t just, like, go around touching people like that! It’s totally sexual harassment!”  
“But Poland likes it, _да?_ ” There was that naïve smile again.  
“No, Poland doesn’t like it!” Glaring, the blond put his hands on his hips. “I love Toris! I’m not going to do anything with you, Russia!” He stomped away, huffing in anger and embarrassment, and dropped into his previously abandoned chair. Had that really just happened? Russia just _groped_ him right in front of the other nations! Ugh, the feeling of the larger nation’s hand on him made Poland shudder. He stood again, snatching the black clutch he kept for occasions such as the party off the table, and stalked off towards the bathroom. His body was ready to rid itself of the alcohol he’d filled it with, anyway.  
Across the room, Toris watched him go. He’d seen every second of the Pol’s little show, and knew very well it was a play to make him jealous. Watching his boyfriend being felt up by Russia was infuriating, but he also knew it would do him no good to give the blond what he wanted and interrupt. Besides, Russia had obviously tried to take more than Poland was willing to give and had ruined the shorter nation’s game.  
Now the blond was probably off pouting somewhere because Toris hadn’t given him what he wanted. If he had, Poland would only have teased him for the rest of the party then made him work for his pleasure once they got home. Lithuania was too familiar with Poland’s games to go along with it. Instead, he intended to make his impatient lover wait until they got home, then demonstrate his frustration.  
“Punishment” sex was one of Liet and Pol’s favorites, after all.

Alone in the single-stall bathroom, Poland checked his hair and makeup in the mirror and reapplied his lipgloss. All the dancing and drinking had given him a “hot mess” look, and he wondered if that might help him win over Lithuania. He giggled at the thought of making out with his boyfriend in the middle of the dance floor. Maybe, if he played his cards right, they could sneak off and play for a bit, just to give Liet a taste of what he would get later.  
Finished, the blond nation packed away his travel makeup into the little black clutch and left the bathroom to return to the dance. He’d taken less than four steps down the hall when a gloved hand was pressed over his mouth and he was jerked backwards. Fighting to scream, Poland felt his wrists being grabbed and pinned behind his back by a second hand; the clutch was knocked from his grasp and fell to the floor.  
Someone laughed in his ear.  
“Kolkolkol…”  
Fear made Poland’s blood turn to ice and he froze, tensing, ready to fight if he had to.  
 _Oh, my god…he’s totally going to kill me for teasing him…_  
“You will become one with Russia, _да?_ ”  
Feliks struggled to free his wrists as he attempted to shout a refusal, but he couldn’t manage to form the words against the larger nation’s hand. To his horror, the blond felt himself being partially lifted off his feet and was half dragged, half carried farther away from the party. He whimpered, terrified of what his captor might have planned.  
With an innocent smile welded to his face, Russia shouldered open the door to what appeared to be a study of some kind. He glanced around then forced the nation in his grip to the desk, pushing him forward so that Poland stumbled.  
“S-stop!” the blond panted, looking up at the Russian with anger and fear in his green eyes. All trace of his drunken giddiness from earlier in the evening had vanished. “Get the hell away from me, you murderer!”  
A cold look came into Russia’s eyes and he slapped the blond, the back of his hand colliding with Poland’s cheek with enough force to make his head snap to the side. Pain made Feliks gasp and whimper, tears pricking at his eyes.  
“Y-you won’t get away with this, Russia!”  
Not bothering to respond, Ivan roughly gripped Feliks’ chin and kissed him, forcing him to open his mouth and invading the warm cavern with his tongue. The blond started to shove him away, but the Russian was quick to trap his wrists in an iron grip, preventing him from escaping. Not until Feliks was beginning to feel lightheaded did the taller nation release him, and he fell back against the desk.  
Before he’d even managed to catch his breath, the Russian moved closer and turned Feliks towards the desk, easily pinning him down on it. Poland resisted, but his strength was no match to that of the larger nation. One of Ivan’s hands pressed down between the Pol’s shoulders as the other began to hike up the fabric of his dress.  
Poland dug his nails into the desk, helpless and furious. “Why are you doing this?!”  
“Because Poland asked for it, _да?_ ”  
“ _What?_ I did not! Get off me!”  
“ _Нет._ Poland has been dancing with me all evening. Now I will have everything Poland’s body promised me.”  
“Let me go, you bastard! You won’t get away with this!”  
Russia chuckled and roughly grabbed the Pol’s ass, making him squeak and jump.  
“Is Poland going to tell on me?”  
“I totally will! Alfred’ll kick your ass if you hurt me!”  
“Then I will crush Poland. I will invade little Lithuania and reclaim him as my territory.”  
Feliks stiffened at the mention of his lover. “You leave Toris alone, you vodka-soaked lunatic!”  
“I leave Toris alone if Feliks keeps his mouth shut, _да?_ ” The smile in his voice made Poland want to vomit.  
Desperate, he tried to think of something to say to scare the Russian, but his mind refused to cooperate. It was too busy focusing on the hand that massaged his backside. As he fell silent, the hand traveled up and the fingers wrapped around the string of the Pol’s lacey black thong. He’d worn it for Toris, but now Ivan was slowly pulling it down, watching the scrap of fabric slide over the blond’s rear.  
“You will not be needing this.”  
The blond whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut. “Please…don’t…”  
Ivan didn’t respond. He left the thong at his prisoner’s knees then reached between his legs to touch him, rubbing and tugging. The blond nation made a pained sound and shifted against the desk as if it would protect him. The fabric of Ivan’s glove felt strange and abrasive and, despite his attempts at controlling his body, Poland felt himself growing hard all over again.  
 _F-fuck, body, stop! You don’t like this! This is rape! Stop reacting!_  
“Kolkolkol…Poland is a little slut, _да?_ ” the taller nation whispered in his ear, his hand moving faster.  
Poland didn’t respond. He was too busy trying to hold his body back from the release Ivan was forcing on him.  
 _No! No, no, no! I won’t! He can’t make me! There is no way I’m going to—!_  
“Nng! Ah! F-f-fuck!” he screamed, body bucking and shuddering as he came into Ivan’s gloved hand. The Russian chuckled and pulled his hand away, licking at the sticky white substance coating his glove.  
“Heh…Poland tastes very sweet.”  
Panting, the green-eyed nation glared at the man holding him down. “L-let me…go…” he demanded weakly.  
“ _Нет._ It is my turn, _да?_ ” Still pinning the smaller man down, Ivan quickly opened the buckle on his belt and then the fastenings on his pants; his pants and boxers pooled around his ankles as he used the Pol’s seed as a substitute for lubricant. He rubbed it over his erection and moaned softly at the slight friction, becoming eager. When he felt it was enough, he took hold of the smaller man’s hips, kicked his ankles farther apart to spread his legs, and lined himself up.  
Realizing what he was doing, Poland tried to push himself up off the desk. “Don’t—!” The rest of his plea was lost in the strangled scream that suddenly tore from his throat. He arched, tears of pain gathering and rolling down his cheeks to drip onto the desk, ruining his makeup. His knees buckled, banging against the side of the desk, and the stretched fabric of his thong ripped. A shudder worked its way down his spine as he felt the Russian move back, almost pulling out, then whimpered as he slammed back in. Poland’s carefully painted nails left marks in the desk as he struggled to withstand the pain being inflicted upon him; blood filled his mouth from having bitten his tongue to hold back another scream.  
Behind him, his tormentor moved slowly, soft moans falling from his lips as he thrust in and out of the smaller nation.  
“Nng…Poland is so tight…ah…”  
Whimpering, Feliks laid his forehead on the desk and closed his eyes against the pain. His vital regions burned with every thrust of the larger nation, and the hand on his hip was leaving a bruise.  
 _Just finish…get it over with…_  
Suddenly, Ivan pulled out of the smaller nation and Poland almost fell, his knees shaking violently; all of his strength went into his arms as he struggled to hold himself up. The tall man stepped back and gazed at his victim, a smile lingering at the corners of his mouth. Then he moved close again and pushed the fabric of the blond’s dress up farther to reveal the soft, smooth skin of his lower back.  
Confusion managed to replace some of Poland’s pain. “What are you…? Ahng!” His stomach arched against the desk as the Russian bit down on his back. Another bite soon followed, and another; at least half a dozen times, he felt Ivan’s teeth dig into his flesh, drawing blood each time. Large hands were placed firmly on his hips to hold him in place as the Russian kneeled before roughly biting the blond’s left thigh.  
“P-please, stop!” Poland begged, crying again as the other man sucked at the bite mark he’d just created. “Please…L-Lithuania! Toris! H-help me!” His desperate calls for help made Russia laugh.  
“Kolkolkol…no one can hear you, little Poland. You are mine, for as long as I want.” The Russian stood and roughly thrust himself back into the blond’s ravaged entrance, one hand on Poland’s hip and the other tangled in his blond locks, nails viciously digging into his scalp. A long, pain-filled moan forced its way out of Poland and he shuddered, his shoulders hunching up as his nails dug into the wood of the desk.  
“Toris…please…”  
This time, Ivan’s thrusts were fast and hard as he pounded into the smaller man, his nails cutting into Poland’s hip and leaving deep scratches. Irritation flashed across his face only a few minutes later when he realized that the blond was nearly unconscious and had stopped reacting to what was being done to him. The hand that was tangled in Poland’s hair moved to the blond’s back and Ivan dragged his nails from just below his shoulder blades to the base of his spine, making the shorter man cry out and struggle weakly.  
A cold smile that didn’t reach his eyes stretched across the Russian’s face.  
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Poland’s semi-conscious mind felt Ivan go deeper than before, the Russian shuddering as he released his seed inside the smaller man. Holding Feliks’ hips steady, he pulled out then let go of him, letting him collapse on the floor with a whimper.  
Helpless and hurting, Poland stared up at his tormentor with empty, emotionless eyes. Ivan’s innocent smile returned as he cleaned himself with a handkerchief then fixed his clothes. He picked the broken thong up off the floor and slipped it into his pocket.  
“It will be my trophy, _да?_ ” He chuckled at the slight scowl that was all Poland could manage. “Do not take too long, Poland. I am sure Lithuania will be looking for you.”  
Feliks didn’t move as the larger nation left, though once he was alone he burst into tears. Sobs racked his slender frame as he lay crumpled by the desk. Eventually, the cries subsided and he took a moment to catch his breath and gather his strength. Pain exploded as he slowly climbed to his feet, using the desk for support. His knees wobbled; something warm dripped down his legs. Vaguely, he realized he was bleeding.  
 _I can’t let anyone see me like this…_  
But how was he going to get all the way to the bathroom without being spotted? Especially considering the limp he knew he was going to have and the fact that he was going to have to hold his dress up if he didn’t want to stain it.  
 _This is totally not good._  
Biting his lip against the pain, Poland took a few unsteady steps and almost screamed. He was limping badly and tears pricked at his eyes.  
“Bastard!” he shouted at the door, his voice hoarse from screaming. “Prick! Communist pig! Didn’t even bother to prepare me, you asshole!”  
There was no response, though he hadn’t expected one and was actually glad. No doubt the Russian would have done even worse if he’d heard and come back.  
Feliks took a deep breath to steel himself and walked as normally as he could out of the study and back to the bathroom. It hurt just as much as he’d imagined it would and it took everything he had to keep going. His clutch lay on the floor, exactly where he’d dropped it when Ivan grabbed him. Without thinking, he bent over to pick it up and almost screamed again as pain lanced through him. More tears ran down his face, but he picked up the clutch and took it into the bathroom with him. He definitely needed his emergency makeup.  
After making sure the door was locked, the blond nation limped over to the sink and set down his clutch. First things first, he needed to take care of the blood. Using warm water, he dampened several paper towels and, as gently as he could, wiped the blood from his thighs. His hand trembled, but he persisted until he was sure he’d gotten it all. Then, with cold water, he created a make-shift ice pack out of clean towels and carefully pressed it to his sore entrance. The coldness made him flinch at first, but it soon began to feel like heaven even though it was odd to have a wad of paper towels clenched between his cheeks. If anyone ever found out about that, he’d die of pure embarrassment.  
With a shaky sigh, Poland left the towels where they were and quickly washed his face. His frequent crying had ruined his makeup beyond repair, so he started over. It wasn’t his best work—his hands were shaking rather violently—but it would suffice for what was left of the party. That taken care of, he fixed his hair as best he could then cleaned everything up. Lastly, he fixed his dress and did his best to smile at his reflection.  
 _Ouch. I’m not even fooled by myself._  
He knew Lithuania was going to notice something was wrong, but there was no help for it. He was as good as he was going to get.  
“All right, Pol,” he said to himself. “You are totally not going to let that dick see you cry. You can totally do this. Just act like it never happened.” Taking a deep breath, he left the bathroom and returned to the party with his head held high.


	3. Chapter 3

Lithuania was getting worried. It had been over an hour since Poland left the party room—he’d been keeping track just to be safe. The only reason he hadn’t gone off to find the blond was the possibility that he’d found a quiet place to lie down for a while.  
 _I don’t want to disturb him if he’s resting, but it’s getting late…there he is!_  
A smile curved up the brunet’s lips when he spotted the unmistakable nation, but it was quickly replaced with a worried frown. Poland was limping.  
Detaching himself from Latvia, Toris stood and made his way towards the injured nation. “Pol?”  
The blond jumped as if he’d been shouted at and almost seemed to cower, his hands twisting into the fabric of his dress. Lithuania’s frown deepened. “Feliks, why are you limping?”  
Green eyes that were usually full of laughter and mischief hesitantly met Lithuania’s. They were bloodshot and a little puffy, though the makeup was nearly perfect. Toris’ heart felt heavy when he realized that the blond had been crying. There was a bruise forming on his cheek as well, and Toris began to wonder what had happened to him in the last hour.  
“I…tripped. Twisted my ankle.”  
“Are you all right? Come sit down.” Gently, he gripped the blond’s arm and led him to the nearest table, supporting some of his weight along the way. When Poland tried to sit, however, he found it to be extremely painful and had to fight to retain his composure.  
Lithuania knelt in front of him. “Let me look at your ankle.  
Panic made Feliks pull away from his lover and best friend. “N-no! I mean, it’s okay. Really. I’m totally fine.” He did his best to smile and patted the chair next to him. “Just, like, sit with me?”  
Nodding, Toris settle onto the indicated chair and took Poland’s slender hand into his own. The nail polish was chipped and one of Feliks’ nails was broken, which seemed odd. It wasn’t something the brunet generally paid attention to, but Poland was obsessive about his nails and would never have gone to a party without them being in perfect condition.  
 _He must have tried to catch himself when he tripped._  
Poland could feel the concern radiating from the nation sitting beside him. It made him nervous—Lithuania knew him better than anyone, so he was sure to realize that something was very wrong with the blond. Fidgeting, he shifted in his chair in an attempt to relieve the discomfort in his abused rear, but it didn’t help no matter how he twisted or shuffled, and Lithuania was beginning to stare. He smiled embarrassedly.  
“Sorry. Just, like, trying to get comfy on these chairs.”  
“Liks?”  
The use of the nickname Toris had given him made Poland finally relax. “Yeah?”  
“Do you want to go home? It’s late, and you look exhausted.”  
Gratitude filled the blond and he nodded. “Totally.”  
Toris stood and offered his hand to his lover, which the blond gratefully accepted. They crossed the room so Lithuania could say good-bye to Estonia and Latvia—the younger of the two clung to Lithuania until he promised that they could all spend time together again soon. Poland tried to wait patiently even though he wanted nothing more than to change into his thick winter pajamas and huddle under the covers until his body stopped hurting. Not soon enough, the former Baltic States finished their farewells and Toris turned to the nation he loved.  
“Let’s go home, Pol.”  
The blond nodded and reached up to very softly press his lips to his lover’s. Surprised, Lithuania took a moment to react then returned the gesture, blushing and shy about the affectionate display. He felt like everyone was staring at them even though most of the other nations were too busy dancing and drinking to notice the couple standing in the darker part of the room. It was a gentler, chaster kiss than Feliks usually instigated and he pulled away after just a few moments. Lithuania lifted a hand and stroked Feliks’ cheek with his thumb. It was a light touch but it made the shorter nation wince then look away in what could only be shame.  
“It’s all right, Liks,” the brunet whispered, placing a light kiss on the other’s forehead. He smiled and led Poland out of the party room, their fingers laced as if afraid of losing each other as they walked towards the car. Once again, pain spiked in his lower half when the blond sat, despite the comfortable familiarity of the front passenger seat.  
“Hey, Liet? I’m, like, gonna lie down in the back, kay?” Lithuania nodded and started the car as the other moved to the back seat and laid on his stomach. It was much less painful than sitting up had been, and he quickly felt exhaustion from his ordeal coming over him. They’d been driving for only a few minutes when he fell asleep.  
The sound of quiet snoring drew Lithuania’s attention to the slumbering nation in the back seat. A fond smile brightened his expression; Poland was so cute when he was sleeping. He was cute the rest of the time, of course, but when he was awake it seemed like he was constantly scheming and plotting. Not that Toris minded. It wasn’t something he admitted, but he rather enjoyed the blond’s carefully staged dates and seductions.  
Those thoughts led him to wonder if Poland still wanted to have sex when they got home. Lithuania doubted it. His lover’s limp and obvious exhaustion made sex unlikely and Toris certainly wasn’t going to try and convince him if he wasn’t feeling up to it.

“Feliks, wake up.” A gentle hand shook him. “We’re home.”  
“Mm…five more minutes, Tori…” came the mumbled reply. The brunet chuckled and carefully lifted his sleeping boyfriend into his arms, cradling him against his chest as he carried him inside. Poland tensed when he felt himself being picked up, but relaxed and nuzzled closer to Lithuania after a moment of unnecessary fear. He loved the cologne the taller nation was wearing; it made him want to kiss and lick and nibble every bit of skin he could get to, but…he couldn’t. Part of him wanted desperately for Toris to touch him and love him and make him forget what had happened. The rest of him was too terrified of Russia’s threat to destroy Lithuania to let him know how badly the blond was hurting.  
“Pol, can you stand?”  
They were in Feliks’ bedroom. He nodded and Toris carefully let his feet down, steadying him so he wouldn’t lose his balance in his heels. He wobbled, his knees buckling, but kept himself from falling by clinging to Lithuania; he was biting back tears. The movement had been too much and—too Poland’s horror—the wet paper towels he’d used as a temporary ice pack fell to the floor. He tried to kick them under the bed but it was too late. Lithuania had seen.  
“What is that?” He bent down to pick it up as Poland hobbled towards the bathroom. “Pol? Is this…blood?”  
Silence.  
“…yes…” It was less than a whisper.  
Concern overrode every other emotion and the brunet took his blond lover into his arms. He was surprised Poland hadn’t been complaining—he hated the sight of blood and tended to be absolutely useless around it. “Did you cut yourself when you tripped?”  
“No…”  
“Then what is the blood from?”  
Poland hesitated then buried his face in the taller nation’s shirt. “I…I can’t tell you,” he whimpered, hating that he had to keep secrets from his lover, hating that he had lied to him, hating Russia for doing this to him, and most of all hating himself.  
Still concerned but now confused as well, Toris stroked the blond’s hair and hugged him tighter. “Why not?”  
“Because I can’t!” He was crying now, staining Lithuania’s dress shirt with tears and running makeup.  
“Feliks! What’s wrong?” Lithuania was flabbergasted. He didn’t understand why his lover would ever hide something from him, especially something he was so upset about. “You can tell me, I’ll help you. You know I will.”  
His attempt to comfort the blond only seemed to upset him further because the sobs increased in intensity. As gently as he could, Toris began steering the crying nation towards the bed while continuing to hug and soothe him. Though he tensed at first, Feliks allowed himself to be guided towards his bed and didn’t resist when Toris sat and pulled the blond into his lap. He cradled him, rocking gently, and hummed. Slowly, the sobs died out and Poland calmed. He felt like a child again, huddling with Lithuania when they were young all those hundreds of years ago.  
Sighing softly, he snuggled into the brunet and closed his eyes. His body still hurt, but he didn’t care. He had Toris, he was safe and warm and with Lithuania’s arms around him he found it easy to block out thoughts of what happened.  
“Pol?” Toris murmured, touching the shorter nation’s cheek. The blond whimpered; he knew what was coming and knew that he wouldn’t be able to lie again, not to Toris. Not to the man he loved.  
Lips brushed against his hair as Toris kissed the top of his head.  
“Come on, Liks,” he whispered tenderly, “tell me what’s wrong.”  
Poland shook his head. He couldn’t tell. But, perhaps…  
“Help me.” Using Lithuania for support, Feliks kicked off his heels and stood, then slowly began to remove his dress. The green silk pooled around his bare feet and he turned, face red with shame. Lithuania gasped and covered his mouth, horrified. His Poland—his playful, flamboyant, careless, loving, flawless Poland—was cut and bruised and…were those _bite marks?_  
Tears came to his eyes the longer he looked at the abused body before him. As Feliks turned, Lithuania carefully examined each wound, no matter how trivial it was. The still-forming bruises on his right cheek, wrists and the fronts of his hips, bite marks on his lower back and left thigh, scratches up his right hip and down his back; his vital regions looked swollen and painful and there was a small amount of dried blood on the backs of his thighs. When the realization hit him, when he suddenly understood what had happened, fury consumed him.  
“Who?” he asked quietly, hands clenching into fists. “Who did this to you?”  
Poland bit his lip and shook his head. The brunet’s tone frightened him—he sounded like a killer.  
“Tell me, Poland.”  
“No,” he whispered, looking at Toris pleadingly. His response was a cold glare and Lithuania stood, more intimidating than Poland had ever seen him.  
He took a step back, frightened and painfully aware of how very vulnerable he was. “Stop it, Tori. You’re scaring me.”  
Anger became confusion that quickly became guilt. He’d frightened the nation he’d promised to help. Feliks trusted him enough to confide him in and he’d scared him. In an apology, he held his arms open and smiled a little to show that he wasn’t mad anymore. Hesitant, Poland moved forward and allowed himself to be wrapped up in a hug, relaxing again in the warmth.  
“I’m sorry.”  
“I know…it’s okay…”  
They stood together like that, breathing in time with each other.  
“Russia.” The name came out on a breath, almost as if Poland hadn’t meant to say it.  
“What?”  
Feliks bit his lip, unsure if he wanted to risk Lithuania becoming angry again. “It was Russia.” He felt the brunet grow tense and hugged him tighter. “I didn’t want to tell you, cause…he swore to kill you…if I tell anyone…”  
“Pol…”  
“I can’t lose you, Toris! I won’t!” The blond was almost shouting, his hands curling into fists around the fabric of the other nation’s shirt. “He won’t take you away from me, not ever again.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You shouldn’t be punished when it was my fault.”  
“Poland.” Toris gripped his lover’s chin and tilted the tear-streaked face up so he could kiss him. His lips, his nose, his bruised cheek, his forehead, all of it; Lithuania left not a single piece of that face unkissed.  
“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against the blond’s. “Never think that. Russia attacked you. He’s the one to blame.”  
Feliks bit his lip and lowered his gaze, though he didn’t pull away. “I was drunk…Tor, I flirted with him. I wanted to frustrate him because he’d been talking about you before the dance started. He wanted to fuck me and I knew it but I kept teasing anyway.”  
Lithuania couldn’t help but chuckle a little. The blond had done the same to him on countless occasions. But while the brunet enjoyed the attention it was well-known that Russia lacked patience and didn’t take kindly to being told no.  
“That doesn’t mean anything.” Swiftly, Toris released his lover and grabbed a folded blanket from the foot of the bed then wrapped it around the injured man.  
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Once again, he had his arms around the blond.  
No, as a matter of fact, Poland had not even the slightest desire to relive the attack. Instead, he wanted Lithuania to make him forget it ever happened, to make him feel loved and wanted rather than possessed and used. But if he wanted that, then Toris had to know what hurt in order to make the pain go away.  
“I want to, like, shower first.” The blond offered a shy smile and took Lithuania’s hand. “Help me?”  
A soft kiss was placed upon his fingers.  
“Always.”  
They went into the bathroom together and Lithuania insisted on preparing a bath for his lover. The tub was filled with warm water, and Poland’s favorite soaps and shampoos were placed within reach. Carefully, the blond stepped into the tub and—with Toris’ help—lowered himself into the water. It was uncomfortable at first, but once he shifted around and managed to settle, the warm water relaxed his tired body and he smiled up at the taller nation. Lithuania returned the smile and began to very gently wash Poland’s bruised body.  
It had been a long time since he’d had to deal with wounds greater than a paper cut or “souvenir” from Poland’s games. Still, he found himself easily cleaning each tear and cut as if he did it every day. He talked as he worked, trying to distract Poland from his injuries.  
“Remember the first time I saw you after World War II?”  
The memory made Feliks blush and he nodded. “You didn’t let go of me for days. I couldn’t even go to the bathroom on my own.”  
Toris smiled. “I wasn’t going to risk something happening to you when I wasn’t around to help.” Pouring a glob of shampoo onto his palm, he began to wash the blond’s wet hair. Feliks whimpered and flinched away.  
“What? What is it?” Concern rose Lithuania’s voice an octave.  
“H-he pulled my hair and, like, dug his nails in.”  
“Let me look.” Gentle fingers parted his hair as the brunet examined his scalp. He found several deep-looking nail marks and a few places where the scalp was torn from the hair being violently yanked. Anger and sympathy tugged at his heart—he’d been in Poland’s position before, though he had never allowed his brothers to know.  
“You’re bleeding a little. I’ll put ointment on them after your bath.” He continued washing Poland’s hair as the blond made a disgusted face.  
“Ew! I, like, don’t want blood in my hair! Get it out, Tor!”  
Lithuania chuckled. “Hold still! You’ll get shampoo in the cuts!” The warning made Feliks settle down and wait quietly as Toris finished shampooing and conditioning his hair and rinsed him off.  
“Feel better?” He helped Poland out of the tub and drained the water; it was an odd pinkish color form the blood he’d washed off.  
“Totally!” A wide smile stretched over Feliks’ face as Lithuania dried him off with a fluffy towel. Then, as promised, he retrieved the First Aid kit and applied a healing salve to each wound he could find. Once that was taken care of, he helped the blond dress in his usual pink pajamas—consisting of a tank top and short-shorts—and the two were in bed, cuddling once more.   
The blond sighed happily and snuggled closer to his boyfriend.  
“Liks? Did you want to tell me what happened?”  
Oh. He’d almost forgotten. The bath had taken his mind off it, but…if he wanted Liet to make him feel better…  
“I wanted to dance with you,” he began quietly, slowly twisting a bit of Toris’ brown hair around his fingers. “But you were talking to Estonia and Latvia, and I was jealous of how much more of your attention they were getting than me. I didn’t want to seem, like, rude or selfish or whatever so I started drinking to have something to do.”  
The words filled Lithuania with guilt. _Was it all my fault? I ignored him on purpose and I knew what he was doing to Russia. I should have done something!_  
His arms tightened around the blond as he held him closer. “I’m sorry. I should have paid more attention to you.”  
Poland kissed his lover’s cheek. “It’s okay. Besides, I decided to try and make you jealous back but then Russia was dancing with me and I couldn’t help it. It was, like, the perfect chance to get back at him, and I knew it would drive you crazy to see me dancing with someone else. The longer we danced, the more I teased him and he got really aggressive and totally groped me. Then I had to use the bathroom, and…and…” Tears welled up in his eyes as he remembered the terror and confusion of being grabbed and dragged off.  
Calloused fingers gently wiped the tears away. “It’s all right, Pol,” Toris soothed. “You’re home. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you.”  
“I-I know.” The blond took a deep breath. “Russia grabbed me and forced me into some, like, office. I yelled at him and tried to fight, but he hit me and I fell.”  
That explained the bruise on his cheek.  
“Then he shoved me onto a desk and I couldn’t get up…I told him that Alfred and the others would, like, never let him get away with hurting me, and he said he’d kill me and take you over if I told anyone and started hiking up my dress…”  
Lithuania nuzzled the Pol’s uninjured cheek in silent encouragement.  
“He touched me…made me release and kept biting me and I couldn’t do anything to stop him. If I struggled, he pulled my hair or scratched me, and then…he…he…” He couldn’t say it.  
“He raped you,” Toris said quietly, because he had known it ever since he saw the blood. The blond nodded as he tried desperately to keep from crying.  
“I didn’t want to but he made me cum again. I…I called for you to help me, but you couldn’t hear me, and it made him laugh. It felt like forever, Tor, like it was never going to end, and it hurt so much…I don’t think I’ve ever cried that much.”  
“Pol, I’m so sorry. I should have been there. I should have helped you.” The two nations were clinging to each other, afraid that if they let go then they would lose each other. Toris, once again, began covering Poland in kisses, though this time he didn’t limit himself to the blond’s face. He kissed every bit of him he could reach, even his toes, and paid special attention to those places that were damaged.  
“Liet…”  
The nation smiled to hear his name sighed like that, and then he was pulled up by the man beneath him. Large green eyes looked up at him for a moment before the blond reached up and kissed him.  
“I love you,” Feliks whispered, smiling as he hugged Toris close. Without even trying to, the brunet had taken all his pain away.  
“Love you, too.”  
Feliks nuzzled closer. “I know we were supposed to have—”  
“Feliks.” A finger stilled his lips. “It’s fine. I’ll wait, okay? For as long as it takes, until you heal and are ready, I’ll wait.”  
Happiness overwhelmed the blond and he gazed at his lover in adoration. _He’s so perfect. And he’s mine._  
“Thank you.” He laced his fingers through Lithuania’s. “Sleep with me tonight?”  
Lips pressed to his forehead.  
“Always.” Smiling, Toris reached over and clicked off the lamp. In the darkness, he whispered in Poland’s ear, “No matter what, I’ll always be here. I’ll always help you.”  
“Really?”  
“Totally.”


	4. Chapter 4

Muttering to himself, Lithuania poured over yet another form, just one of the many that were stacked on his desk. Technically, it was Poland’s desk, but the blond hardly used it and Toris had taken it over during the last two weeks. He needed it, since he’d been staying with the other nation while he recovered. Although Poland’s body had fully healed and there were no scars, his mind was still struggling. No matter what Lithuania said or did, his lover refused to leave the house on his own and woke up several times a night from bad dreams.  
It was beginning to take its toll on the brunet, though he refused to blame Poland. This was all Russia’s doing and _he_ was to blame. He did his best to hide how tired he was and acted as cheerful as he could around the blond so that Feliks wouldn’t feel bad, especially because he knew the shorter nation already felt like a burden.  
With a sigh, Toris set down the papers and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. He needed to take a nap or have some coffee before he’d be able to finish his work. Otherwise, he’d fall asleep at the desk and nothing would get done.  
“Feliks! Could you bring me a cup of coffee, please?” the brunet called, knowing his lover was probably near enough to hear him; the blond rarely let Lithuania out of his sight, and certainly not out of earshot.  
There was no response, but only a few minutes later, Poland let himself into the office and set a mug of coffee on the cluttered desk.  
He kept his eyes on the floor the entire time. “Here.”  
Lithuania smiled up at him, wishing he could see the blond’s green eyes but knowing that they wouldn’t be happy like he wanted them to be. “Thank you.”  
Two weeks and he still wasn’t used to how quiet Poland was, not after centuries of the blond’s chatting and flamboyancy. No matter that he’d occasionally been annoyed by his laziness. He wanted the old Poland back, the Poland that had teased him in the car and liked to drag him around shopping malls. This nervous Poland was too similar to how he’d been just after World War II, and Lithuania would give just about anything to have his playful lover back.  
“You’re welcome.”  
“Pol.” Concerned, Lithuania reached up and stroked the blond’s cheek with his thumb. “You okay?” Even though he knew the answer, he always asked. No matter what was happening, he asked several times a day just to make sure.  
Poland’s eyes closed and he sighed, relaxing into the touch. At least he hadn’t flinched this time, and he’d managed to nap a little while Toris was working, but he still hadn’t bothered to put on makeup, and he was dressed in baggy sweats that were usually reserved for sick days. He hadn’t left the house in days and his hair was pulled back in an uncharacteristically plain ponytail.  
“Yeah, I’m fine.”  
The words were soft, barely audible, but Lithuania heard them. He stood and hugged the smaller nation, holding him gently. It was easy to tell that the blond hadn’t been eating enough; his ribs were starting to stick out and he felt fragile, as if he might crumble into dust if Toris hugged him too tightly.  
Minutes went by and still the couple didn’t move. It was too quiet and peaceful—neither nation wanted to be the one to end it. Eventually, though, Lithuania pulled away and kissed his lover’s forehead.  
“Go have something to eat, Liks.”  
“I’m not hungry.”  
“Feliks, you have to eat. You’re turning into skin and bones.”  
Poland knew the taller nation was right, but he didn’t want to go all the way down to the kitchen by himself again. It was too far from the office—the only reason he’d gone the first time was because he felt obligated to help the brunet to make up for needing so much extra attention.  
“Can’t I stay here with you?” he asked beseechingly, just a hint of his old self showing through. It was almost the same tone as when he wanted to check one more store, try on another pair of shoes or even lay in bed cuddling all day.  
Smiling fondly, Lithuania chuckled and touched the other man’s cheek again. “Fine, but when I finish, we’re having dinner and you have to clean your plate.”  
“Yes, mother,” Feliks responded somewhat playfully, rolling his eyes but smiling. It was nice to know how much Lithuania cared about him, even if it was just by making sure he ate enough.  
Toris placed another kiss on his short lover’s forehead then reluctantly sat and went back to work. Not wanting to be a distraction, Poland curled up in one of the cushy armchairs he’d crammed into the office while the other nation worked. He was tired and—though he’d insisted otherwise—hungry, but he still didn’t want to leave, so he settled for a nap. At least while he was in the same room as Lithuania he could fall asleep relatively easily.  
It was over an hour before Lithuania finished his work for the day, and he stretched tiredly, his joints popping. The coffee Poland had brought him was long gone and he was definitely ready for dinner, and then maybe a movie and bath before he and Poland went to bed.  
One glance told him that the blond was fast asleep, and he hated the idea of waking him, especially since he always looked so tired lately. Perhaps he could go make dinner and come back when the food was ready. As long as Poland didn’t wake while he was gone, there would be no problem with leaving him in the chair. If he woke…well, Toris didn’t want to think about that.  
As quietly as he could, Lithuania left the office and made his way to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

 _Kolkolkol…  
He couldn’t move. It was holding him down, and the laughter never ended…no matter how he struggled he couldn’t get away. And the teeth, biting, ripping, tearing, devouring him, covered in his blood. Pain, excruciating pain. He screamed but no one could hear him, and still that laughter.  
“Poland is a little slut…Да?”_  
“No!”  
Breathing heavily, Feliks sat up in the armchair and looked around the room, his heart beating abnormally fast. That stupid nightmare had woken him up again, but at least he hadn’t disturbed Lithuania this time. He hated being a bother to the other nation, especially while he was working, but then he realized that he was alone in the office; Toris was gone.  
Panic barely held in check, the blond bolted across the room to the desk and glanced over the papers still sitting out. It looked like Toris had finished working while he was asleep, but why had he left without waking Poland?  
 _Maybe he just didn’t want to bother me. It’s totally fine. He wouldn’t leave the house without telling me. I don’t have to freak out. Just calm down, Pol. You can, like, totally be by yourself._  
His gaze drifted over the papers on the desk as he calmed himself down, the absolute normalcy of it helping to remind him that he was safe in his own house.  
 _He works so hard, especially now. I really don’t deserve him…he’s taking really good care of me and I can hardly even kiss him…_  
Tears came to his eyes at the thought. He hated feeling like this, hated flinching nearly every time his lover so much as hugged him, and turning his face away to avoid being kissed. It made him feel terrible because he knew it hurt Toris even though the brunet insisted that he understood and was perfectly content to wait. But Feliks wasn’t going to do that to him anymore. Letting the other nation coddle him wasn’t going to get him back to his old self, and right at that moment, he made up his mind about what he needed to do.  
Hurrying so that the brunet wouldn’t catch him, Poland moved each stack of paper from the desk to the floor, making sure to keep them organized exactly the way Toris had had them. When the surface of the desk was clear, he stripped, letting the heavy sweats fall to the floor, then went to the office door and poked his head out into the hall.  
“Toris! Toris, where are you?” His tone was panicked and verging on hysteric from being left alone, and almost immediately he could hear Lithuania’s voice and footsteps coming closer to the office.  
Shutting the door again, he hopped up onto the desk and crossed on leg over the other to wait. He didn’t like being so exposed, but this was the only way he was going to get better. If he didn’t force himself, he’d keep being afraid forever.  
Less than a minute after Poland had shouted, the door burst open and Toris rushed into the room, brown hair mussed from having run all the way from the kitchen. Worry practically radiated from him, but the moment his gaze landed on Feliks his eyes widened and he stared before quickly looking away.  
“Uh, Pol, are you okay? You yelled…and…why are you naked?”  
A light blush had colored the blond’s cheeks when Lithuania had stared at him, and it remained as he reached out towards the brunet.  
“Come here.”  
Eyes still glued to the floor, Lithuania moved forward and allowed himself to be pulled into a hug, though he still didn’t understand why the other nation wasn’t wearing any clothes.  
“Liet,” Poland whispered, nuzzling into the taller nation’s neck, “make love to me.”  
There. He’d said it, and there was no taking it back. No matter what, he was going through with this. Lithuania deserved it and he was tired of letting his fear stop him.  
“W-what?”  
“Please.” He pressed his lips to the smooth skin of the brunet’s neck, kissing it lightly.  
“Feliks, are you sure? You haven’t seemed like you’re ready…”  
“I am,” the blond insisted, looking into Lithuania’s eyes. “Really. I want to make love with you.”  
Hesitating, Toris stroked the blond nation’s cheek and brushed his hair back out of his eyes. They both knew he wanted it, and it was obvious that the only reason he hadn’t already agreed was out of concern for Poland. What if he wasn’t ready? What if he was still injured internally and it hurt him to try?  
“Pol…”  
“Tori, _please._ I need to do this.”  
A sigh left the brunet and he pulled out of the hug, lightly placing his hands on his lover’s cheeks. “You don’t need to do anything, Pol. I already told you, I’ll wait until you’re ready. Don’t force yourself just because you’re worried about me. I’m fine.”  
“But…it isn’t fair…”  
“That isn’t the point.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the blond’s forehead. “I want you to get better because I love you. I don’t want you to force yourself into something before you’re ready.”  
“I am ready! I want to make love with you!” Tears threatened to spill over as Poland clung to the taller nation, his face pressed into Lithuania’s shirt. “Please…you have to let me do this. I know I can do it if you just, like, give me a chance.”  
Toris hesitated, battling with himself. Yes, he wanted to give in and have sex with the blond, he wanted to believe that Poland had recovered enough and was ready. But what if it was too soon? What if this only caused a setback, and then Feliks didn’t even want to be around him anymore? If that happened…no. It couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let it.  
“Okay, I’ll give you a chance to try, but if you feel at all uncomfortable, Feliks, we’ll stop. I’m not going to let you force yourself into something you’re not ready for.”  
The blond nation looked up at him and smiled a bit weakly, his green eyes full of unshed tears.  
“I totally promise to tell you if I need to stop,” he said truthfully, looking happier than he had in days.  
Smiling in return, Lithuania kissed him and gently laid him back on the desk, then carefully moved over him. “You’re really sure about this?”  
Poland nodded, his blush darkening as he looked up at the brunet, and tugged on his clothes. “Tor…please…”  
The two nations worked together to remove Toris’ clothes, Poland’s hands wandering over his body as more and more of it was revealed. It was like he was seeing it for the first time, and he placed light kisses on the brunet’s faded scars, making him shiver each time. Once all of his clothing was gone, Lithuania nuzzled the blond’s cheek then kissed down his neck.  
“I love you…” he whispered softly, then began to gently suck on one of Poland’s nipples, teasing the other with his fingers. The blond moaned quietly, his eyes closing, and stroked Toris’ hair with one hand.  
How could he ever have been nervous to be with Lithuania? The brunet was so gentle and patient that it made Poland feel ashamed for making him wait so long, and he was glad the taller nation had agreed to at least let him try. All he needed was one chance, and he wasn’t about to screw it up.  
Rubbing his lover’s hip gently, Lithuania licked the sensitive nub he’d been tending to then kissed down Poland’s stomach, moving slowly so the blond wouldn’t feel rushed or pressured.  
“Toris…” The name was panted.  
“Yes?” The brunet moved down and licked the tip of his lover’s member then sucked gently, patiently coaxing it to life. Poland moaned, tilting his head back as he did so, and laced his fingers through Toris’ hair as his hips arched up slightly.  
“Please…I want you…”  
Another smile curved Lithuania’s lips, his hands rubbing and massaging the blond’s thighs as he sucked a little harder and slowly bobbed his head. The moans coming from the nation beneath him grew louder and he felt light tugs on his hair; his tongue pressed against the bottom of Poland’s length and he slid his hand up the shorter nation’s chest to touch his lips.  
“Suck…” he commanded gently, pausing a moment to catch his breath.  
Nodding, Feliks took the fingers into his mouth and did as he was told, wrapping his tongue around each joint one by one. His actions caused Toris to moan softly and suck harder, which in turn made the blond arch off the desk and buck weakly; he groaned the brunet’s name.  
“Toris!”  
The pleading tone was enough for Lithuania to pull his fingers free of his lover’s mouth and place them instead by the blond’s entrance, stroking gently.  
Feliks whimpered. “Please.”  
A kiss was placed on his hip just before one of Lithuania’s fingers gently pushed into him and he groaned, moving his hips encouragingly. The finger moved for a few moments before a second was added and then they pumped and scissored carefully, driving the loudest moan yet from the blond nation as he bucked. Only a few moments later, Toris added his third slicked finger and spread them gently to make sure his lover was properly stretched.  
“Ah! T-Toris!”  
Satisfied that he could make love to Poland without hurting him, Lithuania removed his fingers and kissed his way back up the sweat-dampened stomach and chest until he found the blond’s mouth. It was a rougher kiss than he’d intended, but Feliks didn’t seem to mind and arched against him, wrapping his arms around the brunet’s neck.  
“Feliks…” Taking the blond’s hands in his own and lacing their fingers, Toris deepened the kiss and positioned himself. “Are you ready?”  
Poland nodded and licked the other man’s lip, his face a dark shade of red. They kissed again as Lithuania shifted forward and slowly entered the shorter nation, his muscles tense in order to maintain control of himself. Both men groaned at the action, and after a moment the brunet began to move, going slowly as Feliks moaned and flicked his tongue out to lick Toris’ lip.  
“Nn…F-Feliks? Why are you crying?” Lithuania was surprised to see tears on the blond’s cheeks and began to pull out of the shorter nation, convinced that he was hurting him. Arms wrapped tightly around his waist to stop him, and he felt Poland’s lips against his neck.  
“Don’t…I’m fine…”  
“No, you’re crying, which means you’re not fine. It’s too soon, and I’m not going to help you force yourself.” Gently but firmly, Toris removed the blond’s arms from around his waist.  
“It’s not too soon! I’m not crying because you’re hurting me or whatever!” Poland argued, struggling against the taller nation’s grip. His tone was desperate and he looked up at the brunet with pleading green eyes. After a moment he fell still, his weakened body unable to free itself from Lithuania’s hold, although his expression made it clear that he wasn’t giving up.  
Toris sighed. “Then why are you crying?”  
“Because…” A dark blush heated the blond’s face and he looked away from the taller nation in embarrassment. “Because after Russia, all I could think about was how much it hurt. I totally forgot how good it feels when you make love to me, but when we started and you were so patient, I couldn’t believe I forgot, and I’m, like, really glad you agreed to try. I didn’t even realize I was crying, Tori. Honest.”  
Now blushing just as darkly as Poland, Toris carefully wiped the tears from his lover’s cheeks then kissed him softly. “Okay, I believe you. We can keep going.”  
Feliks smiled and hugged the taller nation, nuzzling into his shoulder. “Thank you.”  
They stayed like that for a few moments, simply enjoying one another’s warmth, then Poland shifted his hips against the brunet’s in a silent request to continue. With a nod, Toris began to move again and settled back into a steady rhythm, dropping kisses on his lover’s face, neck and chest between gasps and moans. It was a slow, gentle pace, but that was enough for now—neither nation felt any need to rush.  
Eventually, though, Poland bucked his hips in an attempt to encourage his lover to move faster, and the brunet didn’t hesitate to oblige. It didn’t matter that they were making love on a desk, or that dinner was downstairs getting cold. The only thing either of them cared about was that they were together, and that Feliks wasn’t afraid anymore.  
Squeezing his hands gently, Toris put his mouth by the blond’s ear. “Feliks…I love you…”  
“I l-love you, too, Liet…”  
One of Lithuania’s hands slipped between their bodies and quickly found the blond’s neglected length; he began to stroke it, his hand moving at the same pace as his thrusts. Feliks moaned and bucked again, his nails digging into the brunet’s back slightly as they both began to move faster. The small amount of pain made Lithuania bite his lover’s neck and he sucked, thrusting slightly harder than before.  
“A-ah…Toris…I’m g-going to…!”  
The brunet smiled and licked the bite mark he’d made. “M-me too…”  
As gently as he could, he squeezed the Pol’s length, his wrist flicking up and down faster. Finally, Feliks bucked and groaned loudly, his body tensing as he climaxed. Lithuania moaned and thrust deeper into the blond, the feeling of Poland’s body tightening around him enough to bring him to his own release. Both nations continued to move through their climaxes, gasping each other’s names with nearly every breath, until they collapsed on the desk in a tangle of limbs. They panted, trying to regain their breath, and Lithuania gently pulled himself from the blond’s body before kissing him softly.  
“I love you, Feliks.”  
The smile on Poland’s face when the kiss ended was the most genuine Toris had seen in weeks.  
“I love you, too, Tor. Forever.”  
Lithuania chuckled and climbed off the desk then helped the shorter nation to his feet. “I made dinner, though we’ll probably have to reheat it now.” He blushed to think of how much time had passed during their lovemaking, and could hardly bear to imagine what it would be like to try to use the desk for paperwork in the morning. Not to mention he was going to have to clean Poland’s seed off his stomach before he’d be able to eat.  
“That’s okay.” The blond slipped his hand into the other nation’s and smiled. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters as long as I have you.”  
Lifting his hand, Toris kissed the blond’s knuckles. “You have me and always will.”  
Feliks giggled, blushing lightly, and led his shy lover out of the office despite his protests about walking around the house naked. Now that he knew he could handle sex, he didn’t intend to let Toris put his clothes back on for the rest of the day. He had two weeks to make up for, after all.


End file.
